


Technocurls

by Iemon_tree



Series: currently hyperfixating on the dream smp [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Fluff, Gen, also as a middle child i believe in middle child technoblade supremacy, and his refusal to eat in the car, anyway enjoy the fluff, anyway this is probably hella ooc LMAOO, because...why not, drawing technoblade with curls and i had a Moment, dw i think philza minecraft will make an appearance at some point, hair care!, i like to over use commas and parentheses, i tried my best using google and other knowledge bc i have curly haired friends, im sorry for any inaccuracies bc i have Wavy Hair and not Curly Hair, im still healing from yesterday so i wrote some sbi fluff to make up for it, no i dont take criticism i will cry, technoblade straightens his hair and i find that so fuckin funny, technocurls!!, this has probably been done but i got this idea from me accidentally, this is so ooc but i dont care, yeah tommy refuses to eat his food in the car, yes i am 100 percent projecting w/ tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27895783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iemon_tree/pseuds/Iemon_tree
Summary: Technoblade has a small problem.Okay, maybe not a small problem. A very big problem. A problem that could absolutely ruin his social standing.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Eret & Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: currently hyperfixating on the dream smp [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007283
Comments: 60
Kudos: 942





	1. Hair Care(?)

**Author's Note:**

> look i KNOW that this is probably so fuckin inaccurate but do i care? no this is entirely self-indulgent 
> 
> for all i know those bitches use three-in-one soap which makes me SHUDDER 
> 
> anyway ttyl yall better enjoy this fuckin fluff-fest bc i might just continue this with various ficlets centering around technoblade with curly hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts with a broken hair straightener and a melted cord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy!! i am. very sorry for how long it took for just this chapter to be rewritten lmfao!! i got really busy and my brain was thinking Other Fic Ideas and not Fixing This Fic
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy the rewritten version!! :D

It all begins with a hair straightener and a melted cord. Blankly, he stares at the cold, metal utensil, wondering what choices led him to this moment. Technoblade sighs, a slow, warm breath puffing from his mouth. His eyes flicker to stare at his reflection, pointedly ignoring the pale, purple-tinted splotches below his eyes. Instead, he looks at the bubblegum pink hair framing his face. Specifically, the _curly_ hair framing his face. 

One of his biggest secrets, exposed because of his foolishness. 

Truthfully, Technoblade doesn’t mind the natural state of his hair. It’s nice to not worry about straightening it every single morning. However, he has a certain image and reputation that he _refuses_ to let be shattered. Curly hair, in his eyes, makes him look _soft_ . _Gentle_. Easy to approach. When he straightens his hair, it creates an air of mystery, intimidation. 

_Wilbur_ is the soft one. _Wilbur_ has curly hair that makes him look _angelic_ and _soft_ and _gentle_ . Technoblade is the intimidating one. He does _fencing_ and he’s been in multiple fights–defending himself and his loved ones, yes, but fights nonetheless–and _he_ has the nickname of _Blood God!_

(The nickname came from a school play he did that resulted in a _lot_ of fake blood. He played the role of a cunning murderer _scarily_ well.)

(But theatre is more _Wilbur’s_ thing. And Tommy’s. So, Technoblade chose not to dedicate himself to theatre, to save his brothers some spotlight.)

(...At least, that’s what he tells himself.)

“Maybe I’ll just shave it,” he mutters wryly, staring disdainfully at the curls. He entertains the idea for a brief moment, before dismissing it. No, he’s quite fond of his hair, thanks. “Or I could braid it?” 

He pauses. No, wait. Of all the skills Technoblade has, braiding is not one of them. 

Before his train of thought could continue, a series of sharp knocks sound at the door. It’s a specific rhythm that Technoblade and his brothers created when they were young, to not-so-silently communicate who was at the door. “Technoooo!” Wilbur whines from outside the bathroom door. The teenager in question was momentarily distracted by the rhythm of the knocks, repeating the beat in his mind over and over again. _One-and-two, three, four. One-and-two, three, four. One-and-two, three, four. One-and-two…_ “Techno!” Wilbur exclaims again, twisting the doorknob. _One-and-two, three, four. One-and-two, three–wait. NO–_

“ _Don’t come in!_ ” Technoblade shouts, pushing his weight against the door. Wilbur groans. 

“Techno! C’mon, I know you’re just doing your hair! I need to use the bathroom!”

“Go use Phil’s!”

“ _P_ _hil’s_ doesn’t have my toothbrush! _Or_ my face wash!” 

“Just–” Technoblade huffs, “Give me a minute!”

“Hurry up! Tommy needs to get in there, and we need to leave early to pick up Tubbo!”

The pinkette rolls his eyes, grimacing at his reflection in the mirror. He eyes his hairbrush, tentatively reaching for it. Maybe brushing out the curls will help? Niki has complained about her hairbrush ruining her hair after curling it. Maybe it works in a similar way?

... _Okay, that_ definitely _did_ not _work,_ Technoblade thinks, staring at the mass of fluff surrounding his head. His hairbrush falls with a clatter onto the countertop, and he reaches his hands up to try and smooth down his puffed-up hair. It kind of works, but he still looks like a pink cloud. 

Next, Technoblade turns on the sink. He wets his hands, flicking stray water droplets from them, and runs his fingers through his hair. His nails catch on tangles and knots, causing him to wince, but his hair _does_ flatten more effectively. 

Unfortunately, Wilbur takes the sound of the sink turning on and then off as a sign that his brother is done with the bathroom. The older opens the door to the bathroom, entering before Technoblade gets a chance to slam it closed. “It took you long–” Wilbur cuts himself off, taking in the figure of his younger brother. He looks like a cat after a bath, truly. Some of his hair is still fluffed up, some of it is damp and more flat. Technoblade scowls, and embarrassed flush rising on his cheeks. 

“My straightener broke,” he says feebly, loosely cradling his elbows. 

“You look like a cat, post-bath,” Wilbur teases, a hand over his mouth to conceal his snicker. 

“Shut up,” Technoblade grumbles.

“I forgot you _had_ curly hair,” his brother admits, grin growing impossibly wider. “Going for a new look?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Tech! You look…”

“Stupid?”

“No, no! Just...different,” Wilbur hums, teasing tone dropping at the sight of his brother’s barely-concealed distress. “Not in a bad way, though.”

“Wil, I look _soft_. And _stupid_. And _messy._ Technoblade isn’t soft, or stupid, or _messy_ . I’m Technoblade! The Blood God! Feared by all that look upon me! Not...uh...Techno _fork_ , the _cloud_ god, feared by _none!_ ”

“And you say _I’m_ the dramatic one,” the brunet snarks, chuckling. 

“You are,” Technoblade replies. 

Wilbur simply shakes his head, smiling. He grabs his toothbrush, running the head under the faucet. “Why don’t you just let your curls out today? It can’t be good for them to be constantly straightened.” He pauses, turning to his younger brother. “Do you even take care of your hair? Outside of straightening it?”

“Um...I wash it?” Technoblade offers, tilting his head. 

“How many times a week?” Wilbur asks, setting down his toothbrush. 

“..Every day? Whenever I take a shower? It’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

Wilbur heaves a long, drawn out sigh. “How have you survived this long?” he mutters, turning to the shower. “What products do you even use? Please don’t tell me it’s _two_ -in-one.” He throws open the curtain, eyes scanning the built-in shower shelf where the brothers put their soaps. Technoblade has the sense to look guilty as Wilbur grabs his not two-in-one, but _three_ -in-one. “Technoblade, what the _fuck_.” It’s not phrased as a question.

“It’s convenient!” Technoblade defends, flushing.

“It fucks up your hair, that’s what it does! No wonder your hair is so shit!”

“My hair isn’t _that_ bad!”

“Tech, you look like a sewer rat decided to nest in your hair!”

“Why are we arguing?” a new, higher-pitched voice demands, sleep coloring his words. Tommy rubs his eyes as he stands in the doorway, looking between his older brothers. He pauses, cerulean eyes flickering back to Technoblade. His eyes widen with _glee_ , and the youngest brother starts _laughing_. “Oh–oh my _gOD_ , Technoblade!” he cackles, doubling over. 

Technoblade’s face reddens more. “Knock it off, it’s not _that_ funny,” he grumbles, tugging on his curls.

Tommy simply laughs louder, pressing a hand to the doorway to keep himself standing. “Oh, what will _Dream_ say when he sees you like this?!” he exclaims, wheezing. 

“Nothing, because he _won’t_ be seeing me like this!” Technoblade replies. “Wil, can we _please_ talk about this later? And can you just–I don’t know, braid my hair?” 

Wilbur visibly deflates, frowning. “ _Fine_ , but the _moment_ we get out of school I’m taking your ass to the store and we’re buying you some new hair shit because you _need_ to take care of your curls, even _if_ you prefer straightening your hair.”

“Fine! That’s fine! Just…” the middle sibling passes Wilbur his hairbrush, along with a black hair tie. “Just braid it, _please_.” 

Wilbur tuts, setting down Technoblade’s soap. He takes the hairbrush, and places it back on the counter. “Toms, go finish getting ready. Grab some breakfast.” 

Tommy swipes his hand across his eyes. “Whew! Alright, I’m gonna…” he trails off, dissolving into giggles, before disappearing down the hall.

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Technoblade mutters. Wilbur scoffs, gesturing at the toilet seat. The pinkette sits down, obediently turning his back to his brother. 

“You’re not gonna kill him, he’s just teasing you,” Wilbur replies. He turns on the sink, wetting his hands. Carefully, he runs his fingers through Technoblade’s hair, pulling apart the tangles and knots that have already formed. “We’re gonna get you a new hairbrush and a comb, too.”

“Why?”

“You notice how your hair gets all cloud-like when you brush it?” Technoblade nods. “Well, you’re really supposed to _comb_ it. You’ll fuck up your hair if you brush it. Well, more than it already _is_. Do you shower hot or cold?”

“Uh...hot.”

“Whenever you wash your hair–which you really should do it like...twice a week–use cold water. Somethin’ about oils n’ your pores opening up with heat.” Wilbur starts to carefully braid Technoblade’s hair. The pinkette relaxes, always enjoying it when his brothers or father plays with or styles his hair. It’s nice and calming, for him. Only a select few can actually touch his hair, though. 

“How do you know so much?” Technoblade asks once Wilbur ties off his braid. 

Wilbur shrugs, “When you started growing out your hair, I did some research. Learned I could apply it to _my_ hair as well.” 

_Oh_. “Oh,” Technoblade murmurs. Wilbur gives his brother’s shoulder a gentle pat. 

“Alright, I need to keep getting ready,” Wilbur hums, turning to the sink. 

“Hey, Wil?” 

“Yeah, Tech?”

“...Thanks.”

“No problem, that’s what brothers are for.” The two share a grin.

Later that day, Tommy would make fun of Technoblade for his “Shit job at hair-care,” to which Tubbo would quip back with, “Didn’t you wash your face with hand soap for nearly three years before realizing hand soap is _very_ different from face soap?” 

Watching Tommy’s face drop as his friend betrayed him was _definitely_ worth exposing his poor knowledge on how to take care of his curls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :] i should be getting out the other chapters within a few weeks or so, and then i can start posting some of my new ideas!!


	2. Lemon Loaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Technoblade go to Target in search of hair products.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall i have SO much serotonin rn i wrote this after finding out i passed my math final for college (doin both high school and college babeyyy and thats on the collegiate program)!!!! and i continued writing this after mcc bc tommy and tubbo's friendship gives me LIFE
> 
> n e ways im ngl i was lowkey cackling while writing this i had SO much fun LMAOOO
> 
> i believe in starbucks lemon loaf supremacy and i WILL project that onto them
> 
> OH. DISCLAIMER: i have very SLIGHTLY wavy hair. pls don't @ me on this info i was literally just using google and nothing else PLEASE don't take me for advice LMAOOOO all u peeps with curly hair,,, keep bein absolute royalty ily <3 and all u peeps with wavy/straight hair,,, bruh rock that shit!! ur beautiful!!!! im in such a great mood guys!!!!! i hope you are too!!!!! :D

The shelves of Target’s hair products aisle have never been so intimidating. Technoblade stands next to Wilbur, feeling awfully small for being able to reach the top of the shelves. His eyes dance along dozens of bottles ( _ what does Moroccan Argan oil mean– _ ), scanning the words. Oil control? Primer? Heat protecting?  _ Why would you put liquid pearls in your hair?! _

Wilbur chuckles, glancing at his brother’s lost look. “I don’t think Target was the best place to start, if I’m honest, but it’s quick,” he hums. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this confused, Tech.” 

“Shut up, Wil,” Technoblade huffs, cheeks warming with embarrassment. “What–just tell me what I need.” His shoulders slump, and he crosses his arms. 

“Well, first, you need shampoo and conditioner. And not,” Wilbur continues, lightly slapping Technoblade’s hand when he reaches for a two-in-one, “Not duos. Individual. You need a separate shampoo and a separate conditioner, because of  _ where _ they go.” 

“What?” Technoblade asks. “They go in your hair! Why can’t I get a two-in-one?”

“Shampoo goes in your roots, conditioner goes in the ends of your hair,” the older counters, “Conditioner in your roots only creates blockage and it’s pure hell. You’re also gonna need pre-poo.”

Technoblade snickers at the name.

“Ha, ha, very funny, I know. You put it in before shampooing. You can just use coconut oil for that, though. Comb it through your hair before washing it, it’ll keep moisture in your hair.”

“Why do you know so much?” Technoblade mutters. 

“Like I said: research. I didn’t want shitty curls, because I have an  _ image _ , Tech. You just happen to have a similar hair type to me.”

“What about Tommy? His hair is...fluffy.”

“Yeah, it's  _ fluffy. _ Not  _ curly _ . Wavy at best.”

“What even is the difference?” Technoblade whines, running one hand down his face. 

“Curls are tighter than waves. Wavy hair is  _ slightly _ curly, but doesn’t require as vigorous treatment as curls do.” 

“That’s dumb.”

“Do you want to look like a cloud, or do you want to look good?”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t look good with a cloud.”

Wilbur quirks an eyebrow. “We can just leave, and I can just leave you to deal with shitty hair,” he hums, shifting to the balls of his feet. 

Technoblade groans, slumping further. “Fiiiiiine. What  _ shampoo _ do you get?” 

The older grabs a green tinted, slightly translucent bottle. “This one is good and cheap. And it smells nice, so. There’s that.”

Technoblade takes the bottle, and places it in the basket. “Conditioner?”

Wilbur grabs a similar bottle to the previous, except it’s flipped. “You’re also gonna need a  _ leave-in _ conditioner.” 

“How do you dry your hair with  _ conditioner _ in it?”

“You don’t,” Wilbur replies smoothly. 

“ _ What?! _ ”

“You don’t,” he repeats. “You get as much water out with a t-shirt, and let it air dry the rest of the way. Don’t tie up your hair in that weird towel-thing that you do. Where’d you even learn that?”

“Niki,” Technoblade replies. “It was after freshman homecoming, remember when you spilled soda on her dress?”

Wilbur’s face goes pink. “It was an accident!”

“Mhm, sure. Anyway, she took a shower at our place–how do you not remember this?”

“I think I passed out from a sugar rush.” Wilbur shrugs.

Technoblade rolls his eyes. “Right. She taught me how to do it. I didn’t realize the hair went  _ into _ the weird swirly part of the towel, so that was an experience.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“You get used to it.”

Wilbur crosses his arms. “Well, you’re gonna stop that immediately, because it like...stretches out your curls or something? And the material of the towel fucks up your hair. It’s too rough or some shit. Curly hair is...very sensitive.” 

“Can’t I just get a perm, but make it straight?”

“No, ‘cause then we won’t be the curly haired bros, and I will be sad.”

“Oh, no, how  _ awful _ . I would  _ never _ want my older brother to be  _ sad _ ,” Technoblade replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. 

“You’re a dick.”

“Your comebacks are weak.” 

“Fuck you, I’m not buying you tea anymore.”

“Oh, no, what will I do? It’s almost as if we don’t have a  _ dad _ who buys me tea anyway…”

“No lemon loaf for you, either.” 

Technoblade stiffens. He tilts his head at his brother. “How dare you threaten my lemon loaf?” he hisses, no bite to his tone. 

“You’re being mean!”

“Am not!”

“Apologize, and I will buy you  _ two _ lemon loa–”

“Mr. Wilbur Soot-Craft. I apologize  _ sincerely _ for my behavior in this here Target. I beg you for your forgiveness, and I will  _ never _ joke about permanently straightening my hair,” Technoblade pauses, then mutters under his breath, “even though I would look  _ way _ more cool,” then, louder, “Ever again. You have my word as Technoblade Craft, middle son of Philza Craft.” Then, for effect, he gives a low bow. 

Wilbur claps appreciatively. “ _ Thank _ you! I accept your apology. Now, let’s continue. Leave-in conditioner,” he says, grabbing a small bowl-looking container. “Put that in your hair after washing it, when it’s damp. That should be all the shit you need for now, we can worry about other shit if it ever comes up.” 

Technoblade nods, looking to his brother. “Cool. We can leave now. Lemon loaf time.” 

Later, in Wilbur’s car, Technoblade splits one of his loaves in half, giving one half to Wilbur, and saving the other half for Tommy. Wilbur would hum appreciatively, and Tommy would split his half with Tubbo, before hurriedly eating both halves. 

But, for now, Technoblade needs to worry about the awkward small talk with the Target cashier, because Wilbur abandoned him in the name of Starbucks and said lemon loaf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look. all my fics have tommy and tubbo in them. i HAD to include them or it wouldn't be a lemon tree fic. (or,, a Iemon tree fic because i had to use a capital i in place of an L LMAOOO) 
> 
> anyway enjoy the fluff!! there's probably gonna be more :)


	3. The Ties that Bind Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair ties are both the best and worst thing in the world. They keep the hair out of your face, but the little bastards disappear as soon as you look away for five seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is partially based off the fact that i have three (3) hair ties left. where do they go? i don't know. but i have...as i'm typing this im realizing that two out of three hair ties have disappeared. what the fuck. 
> 
> also. this chapter was originally going to be a 5+1. and. then i just kept going. and going. ahaha. enjoy the continuous fluff! the streams have been somethin alright!! 
> 
> ive been working on a few things so,, maybe be on the look out for those?? i guess? depends on whether i deem them worthy of y'all's eyes :) 
> 
> oh! extra bit of text that i scrapped will be in the end notes :D

His hair is still warm from being ironed, the pink strands gently being looped into a ponytail. Technoblade splits the hair tie between his pointer finger and thumb, tugging his hair through the tie. That’s when _it_ happens. The worst thing to happen to hair tie users. 

The hair tie snaps, flicking him in the hand with a painful sting. Technoblade hisses, dropping his hair, and stares at the broken hair tie. Frowning, he drops the tie in the trashcan, opens the cabinet, and instinctively reaches into his hair tie tray. Only for his hand to meet nothing but cold plastic. “Heh?” The pinkette turns fully to the cabinet, staring at the small tray, usually littered with ties. “Where did…” he trails off, closing the cabinet, and turns to the door. 

No hair ties on the doorknob. Technoblade purses his lips, and the search for his missing hair ties begins. Every doorknob is checked, leading to Wilbur’s beanie and one of Tommy’s shoes being thrown at him at his brothers’ protests, and his room is torn apart and put back together again. _Still_ , no hair ties. “What is this?” Technoblade hisses. “Hey, Wil?” he calls, poking his head out into the hallway. 

“What?” his brother responds. 

“Have you seen _any_ of my hair ties?”

“Oh! Um,” Wilbur pauses, stepping out of his room. “Promise you won’t kill me.”

“Wh–Wilbur, what did you do?”

“I threw them away?”

“WHAT?!” Technoblade steps out of his room with the grace of a toddler attempting ballet for the first time. (Meaning: he exits his room, leaning a little too far to the right, and nearly topples over. Wilbur barely contains his laughter, shut down by the glare Technoblade gives him.) “You threw out _all_ my hair ties?!” 

“They’re not good for your hair!” Wilbur exclaims. 

“Wh–so _what?!_ I need my hair out of my face!”

“Wear a headband!”

“Are you _mad?!_ ”

“No! Just looking out for you!” 

Technoblade groans, running his hands down his face. “I...You really took a look at my remaining hair ties and decided," he makes his voice higher to mock his brother's voice. "oh, _my little brother Technoblade likes putting his hair up because it stays out of his face! Man, I’m just gonna_ ** _throw_** _them away so he goes to school with his hair everywhere even though–_ you _KNOW_ my hair gets all tangled up _so_ easily, Wilbur, I swear to _god_ it’s _SO_ annoying, how am I going to look _intimidating_ if my **_hair_** is a giant _mass_ of tangles?!” He inhales, having not taken a single breath during the entirety of his rant. 

Wilbur’s hand covers his mouth to hide his shit-eating grin. “Yes, Technoblade, that was my _exact_ thought process. Maybe I’ll text Eret to _not_ bring along their hair ties to school today for you.”

“Wh–Wilbur. _Lice_.”

“Techno. _They’re plastic and have been sanitized._ ” 

Technoblade sighs. “Alright, fine. Let’s just...go.” He briefly turns to his room to grab his backpack, and walks down the hallway, brushing past Wilbur (who lightly punches his arm). 

“Toms! Are you ready?” Wilbur calls. 

“ _Shut up, Tubbo–_ yEAH!” Tommy shouts, “Give me a second!”

“You better hurry up or I’ll leave your ass!”

“Dad would kill you!”

Downstairs, the pinkette snatches him and his brothers’ lunches from the fridge, giving a small smile at the note Phil had left for them, wishing them a good day (and apologizing for not being able to make them breakfast). The money their father had left (for breakfast) was pocketed, and now he waits for Wilbur and Tommy. 

“Ten, nine, eight..!” Wilbur counts down, descending the stairs. He casts a shit-eating grin to Technoblade, and holds up Tommy’s phone. “Seven! Six! Five!”

“ _Did you just say sex?_ ” Tommy exclaims, practically jumping down the stairs. Technoblade watches with mild interest as Tommy spots Wilbur holding his phone. Honestly, the middle sibling couldn’t replicate the sound that escapes his younger brother as he launches himself at Wilbur, demanding his phone back. 

“ _Not until you grab your lunch!_ ” Wilbur shouts back, silently communicating to Technoblade. The pinkette sighs, before holding out his hand. The eldest grins widely, one hand pushing down Tommy’s face, the other launching Tommy’s phone at Technoblade, who catches it with ease. 

“ _Tommy, what’s happening?!”_ The tiny voice of Tubbo shouts through the phone’s speakers. Ah, Tommy was talking to Tubbo. Technoblade turns the phone off speaker, and presses it to his ear. 

“Hi, Tubbo.”

“ _The Blade! What’s happening? Tommy’s just screaming?”_

“He’s taking a while to get ready, so Wil stole his phone, and now I have it.” Technoblade let’s his brothers’ fighting become white noise as Tubbo responds.

“ _Oh, makes sense! That’s probably my fault. Eret said he’s bringing you his old hair ties? What time do you think you’ll get to school?”_

“Knowing Wil and Toms? Give it fifteen. Maybe twenty, cause we gotta grab breakfast. Want anythin’?”

“ _Copious amounts of Romans,_ ” Tubbo responds, dead serious. Technoblade sputters, choking on his laugh. 

“From where?”

“ _The Archives!_ ” 

Before Technoblade can respond (or fully comprehend what, exactly, Tubbo meant by that), Tommy snatches his phone back. “You’re a bastard and you are a bitch, Tech,” Tommy hisses, no real heat behind his tone, before he brightens, pressing his phone to his ear. His backpack is slung over one shoulder, Minecraft-themed lunchbox clutched in his other hand (it had been a gift from Tubbo in fifth grade, and Tommy has refused to give it up). “Tubbo! Big T! Have you had breakfast yet?”

Technoblade simply chuckles, shaking his head in something akin to disbelief. He glances at Wilbur, who twirls his keys in one hand, yellow lunch bag in the other. His messenger bag is slung across his body, sheet music poking out of one of its pockets. The pinkette raises an eyebrow at the sheet music, before following Tommy out the door. 

The trio of siblings make their way to Wilbur’s car, and take their respective seats. Even Tommy knows that the passenger seat belongs to Technoblade, after an incident that involved motion sickness, a large forest on the side of the road, and a bear. The three had sworn never to tell the tale of that night, which they called _Incident B_. 

After a brief intermission involving getting their breakfast (and Tubbo’s, because Tommy is clingy and a good friend, contrary to popular (Tommy’s) belief), they make it to their school. Eret, Niki, and Tubbo wait patiently by Eret’s car. Tommy eagerly greets his friend with a brown paper bag containing their breakfasts (“I want to eat with Tubbo, because he is a bitch,” Tommy had explained to Wilbur after he attempted to coax Tommy into eating before they arrived), and the two immediately plop down on the asphalt of the student parking lot. Wilbur snorts, passes a cup of hot tea to Niki and an iced coffee to Eret. 

Technoblade sits down beside Eret, who immediately gives him a small, plastic container. “Thanks,” the pinkette hums, snatching one of the plastic, coiled hair ties. 

“Oh! Technoblade!” Niki exclaims, turning to him. “Can I braid your hair?”

Technoblade pauses, tentative to let someone other than his immediate family braid his hair, but then he remembers. Niki was the reason why his hair was pink. Right. She’s handled his hair before. “Sure,” he responds smoothly. The girl grins brightly, and shuffles over to him. Standing on her knees, she gently runs her fingers through his hair, separating the knots that had already formed from just sitting in Wilbur’s car. 

He closes his eyes on instinct, tapping his fingers together as Niki weaves his hair together in an elegant braid. After a few moments, she taps his shoulder. He hums, and passes her the hair tie. A pat on his head informs him that his hair is complete. “Thanks,” he says, flashing a small grin. 

“No problem! Your hair has gotten really soft, what do you use?” 

“That’s a question for Wil, really. He uh...forced me to switch things up.” 

Wilbur immediately jumps into the conversation. “Niki, _Niki._ He was using _three-in-one_ . And his hair is _curly!_ ”

“Technoblade!” Niki exclaims, looking horrified. 

“It’s not _my_ fault half my family has straight hair!” Technoblade defends quickly, cheeks heating up. Eret snickers, sipping her coffee, watching the following argument with interest. Even Tommy and Tubbo stop their debate on Romans and Archives (and whether they had an English test that day) to watch. They all know the debate is in good spirit, judging by the participants’ grins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed!!! :D
> 
> here's the extra scene that i scrapped:  
> “Google exists! And Wilbur!” Niki replies. 
> 
> “I don’t see why it’s a big deal,” Technoblade whines, running one hand down his face. 
> 
> “Why would you think hair wash and body wash would be perfect together?” Wilbur demands. 
> 
> “It all is on the same thing! My hair is attached to my body!” 
> 
> “Technoblade, no.”
> 
> “Technoblade, yes!” Tommy jumps in, laughing. 
> 
> “Shut up Tommy!” Wilbur shouts. “You use hand wash for your face!”
> 
> “Did for three years!” Tubbo chimes, grinning. The debate continues for about a minute longer, before the group of teenagers is scrambling up due to the morning bell ringing.


	4. really sorry for this!!! pretty important author's note!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> important!!! please read!!!!

hi guys!!!! this chapter won't be staying up for too long (hopefully), but i've decided i'm going to change a few things bc i've officially started to like...develop this au? re-reading what i've posted has made me realize i have a few plotholes to fill, so for right now i'm gonna be pausing updates this work until i can work on those changes!! i'm either gonna unpublish this work and just repost the chapters, OR i'm going to create a whole new work (with possibly a new title? not sure yet) and post the updated chapters +everything else as i go!!

again: i'm just gonna be revamping and redoing the chapters i have right now so that, again, they make sense as far as my timeline/au :] thank you guys SO much for the love you've given this!! seriously!! i find myself _melting_ whenever i read the kind comments and see all the kudos n shit so!!! i just. i appreciate yall so much!!! 

i'm gonna leave this note up for a day (maybe?) so those of you who have been waiting for an update can see this and not panic!! 

love you guys!!! drink water, get somethin to eat, and if you're looking at this at the late hours of the night (like i am posting this), get some good sleep!!! <3 :]

**Author's Note:**

> ah, im so goddamn soft guys,, i told u i would bring fluff,,,
> 
> EDIT: this is for all of u (but especially yall in the comments) 
> 
> aaaaaAAAAAAAAAA thank you!!!! all these comments are genuinely makin me blush!!!! i plan on making a part two of sorts, perhaps wil and techno going to the store?? or maybe some cute fluffy scenes of technobraid making an appearance??? perhaps i'll be taking a few suggestions??? 👀👀 lmk if y'all would want to see that!! :D again, thank you for all the support!!!! :)


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